Sempiternal
by xkaiistarx
Summary: The material shape and form might change, but it was comforting to know that the lingering original taste never did. Chocolate and various nations. America. Ancients. Belgium. France. Japan. Veneziano. Romano. Switzerland.


Told you that you will never see the last of me. Happy Chinese New Year/ Early Valentines.

Sempiternal-eternal and unchanging, everlasting

* * *

><p><em>Ferrero Rocher - Veneziano<em>

The woman was growing curious. The man in the fedora had spend the entire morning and then some staring at the expanse of chocolate decorations without expressing a desire to buy anything. He was by no means doing anything wrong, but his presence in the last four hours has cause the staff to start eyeing him oddly.

Watching him from the corner of her eyes, the woman observed him particularly drawn to a tower of _Perugina Baci_. In fact, he seemed almost enamoured with it. Several times she had almost caught him touching the display. Watching him press the tips of his fingers against the _Baci_, she frowned and strode across to him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Humming softly, slender fingers traced the rim of the chocolate tower gently before facing the speaker.

"_Ciao signora_." Liquid amber flashed, mouth curling into a warm smile.

The woman blinked in surprise. Not showing that his suaveness had affected her, she mustered the most disapproving look she could and met his eyes head on.

"Sir, touching the displays are not allowed."

"Ahh," the man smiled apologetically, tipping his fedora. "_Mi dispiace_. I didn't mean to."

Nodding once, the woman broke eye contact and made to turn back to her post. It was not good looking at the man for too long. Up close she could tell how attractive he was and smell a whiff of his cologne. A faint husky scent that made her head spin slightly.

"Wait," the sound of his voice momentarily stopped her. The man shuffled awkwardly as though he wanted to pry something out of his throat.

"Let me make it up to you. That is, I mean, how about some coffee?" His slight stuttering was such a sharp contrast to his initial sophisticatedness.

She couldn't help it. Her inner wall of collective emotions crumbled down.

She laughed.

The sound startled him, and he looked at her in worry.

Before she could speak, a call from her manager interrupted them. Hurriedly, she grabbed and pushed something round into his hand. Smile fading, she gave him a nod and left towards the staff room.

Dimly, the man was aware of the pounding of his heart. Dazedly, he left the shop to one of the benches littered on the Italian cobblestone, where he sat heavily.

"So? How did it go?"

The man turned to face his accomplice, eyes still hazy. "Feliciano _signore_, I think I love her."

Feliciano laughed, his curl bouncing in the sunlight. "Of course you do, Benigno. But does she?"

"I..I don't know."

"I think she does. Ve, what's that in your hands?"

The man opened his palm to reveal a golden foil-wrapped Ferrero. Confused, he fiddled with the ball of chocolate. Gazing up, he found Feliciano looking at him, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"You know, giving chocolates are supposed to be a sign of love _signore_."

* * *

><p><em>Guylian-Belgium<em>

The kitchen smelled of cocoa powder. Half empty bowls of molten brown creaminess stood piled on the lone wooden table. Fingers left tiny smears of chocolate filling on the counter as its owner worked about, humming a lively tune.

Laura never prided herself as a messy type of person. Sure she kept her things in a her own neat and precise fashion-that meaning sometimes throwing her stuff askew around her house. But most of the time, that meant keeping her things tidy and orderly.

Not today though. Never on this day.

Specks of flour littered on the blondes' cheeks, as well as on her clothes. Laura had forgone the apron today. It wouldn't have helped much anyway, being in the state that she was. The sweet smells of various unknown fillings mixed together wafted into the air, the aroma not too pungent until one felt like gagging but of a pleasant underlining heaviness that promised heavenly pleasures.

Pouring the chocolate and filling into the signature moulds that gave the chocolate it's trademark shell shape from her homeland, Laura left the chocolate to set in her fridge before turning her attention back to the mess.

Letting a thoughtful smile take over her expression, she sigh in contentment though there was no mistaking the competitive glint behind her eyes.

_This time for sure. _The girl thought_. I have plenty of other tricks up my sleeve. Neuhaus. Godiva. Leonidas. I won't lose that easily._

The title of country with the best chocolate in the world would be her's and there would be nothing Switzerland could do about it.

* * *

><p><em>Royce -Japan<em>

The faint scent of incense greeted Kiku as he stepped into China's house. Clutching the bag's precious contents to him, he traversed the courtyard where China grew his plum blossoms, knowing where exactly to find him.

Winter was fading, and Kiku noticed the pale pink buds ready for bloom. They would open their petals almost any day now.

Catching a gleam of China's beloved panda, Kiku paused to watch it climb into the reaches of a bamboo thicket before resuming his leisurely pace. His shoes made soft clopping noises on the ground.

Shrubs dotted each side of the mini pathway, empty of peonies. Those would bloom later, when spring left and summer came. Even though he was too far, Kiku could glimpse the shadows of small koi swam lazily throughout the small pond situated between the plum blossom trees.

Reaching the pavilion, he spied the Chinese reading while drinking tea, muttering statistics to himself. Clearing his throat, Kiku attempted to catch the attention of his friend.

"China-san?"

"Japan! Kiku, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here _aru_?"

Ignoring China's use of his human name,-it brought back memories he rather not relieve- Kiku, raised his bag of contents and uttered an awkward, sheepish "I brought something for you, since it's your new year."

The result was to say, rather amusing. China gave Japan a look and started to chuckle, leaving the Japanese man rather flustered as well as five shades of pink and anxiety.

"Kiku, the new year is the day after tomorrow."

Oh. No wonder he felt something was off. China's house was covered head to toe with festive decorations, yet not one soul could be found.

Glancing up once, China decide to shift the conversation elsewhere to spare him the embarrassment.

"What's in the bag?"

"O-Oh, it was supposed to be a gift."

"Let's see it!"

"Right now?"

"Of course!"

Thrusting the bag into China's hands, Kiku waited anxiously for him to uncover the present.

"Royce?"

"It's chocolate, made by me."

"Oh." Popping a piece into his mouth, China widened his eyes from the sudden onslaught of richness and creaminess. Unsurprising, since _Nama Chocolate_ was made from the best quality milk from Hokkaido's cows. Giving Kiku sparkling eyes was all the answer the latter required.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I love it!" Smiling widely, China gestured to the Japanese. "Stay the night. Tomorrow we are having reunion dinner at my place."

Seeing the hesitation, he continued. "Everyone will be here. Even Vietnam and Korea. Perhaps Singapore too."

In a softer tone, he added, "Just for this time, we will be like a family again."

Kiku closed his eyes. He had been dreading this. Every encounter with his _brother_ friend made him dread this conversation. Muttering a "I'll see what I can do about it", he left quickly, wishing it would be easier for two parties to forgive grudges easily.

From the pavilion, China looked on with a wistful expression. Outside, the top few plum blossoms in the trees begin to bloom.

* * *

><p><em>La Maison du Chocolat -France<em>

Another day, another box. Francis glanced at the gold-tinted package with distaste. The giver had obviously tried to impress him, the luxury brand engraved in silver on the corner of the rectangle.

A thoughtless gift, meant only to win him over. And then what? To spend the night with just another woman who would leave him in the morning? That wasn't love, just a convenience, a materialistic curtain that if he pretended hard enough, could serve as a substitute. Francis didn't want that, not anymore.

Even when covered with a layer of snow, the streets of Paris were littered with people. From his balcony, Francis had a clear view of the Parisians moving about. Men bundled in thick coats weave through the crowd, eager to reach their destination. Women fluttered through the street stalls, eyeing the newest fashion but never staying for long. Lovers twined fingers as they wander, an aura of bliss around them. It was this latter group that he rested his eyes upon.

A tall bulky man had picked his significantly smaller other by the waist and had proceed to spin her in the air. The woman shrieked in surprise, her tanner arms coming to wrap over her husband's. Their laughter filled the air, prompting looks from amused by-standers. In spite of his previous bad mood, Francis let a bittersweet smile crossed his face.

It was funny really, as the country of love, the one thing he could not do was to fall in love. Initially he thought nothing of it, but as the years pass, Francis had grown to resent that rule. It hurt him sometimes, watching his people grow and live while he remained forever stuck in limbo, unable to obtain the very thing he himself was known for.

Francis was lonely. And he yearned for companionship. Companionship he knew he could never have.

His musings were interrupted by yet another knock on his door. He frowned, irritated. It seemed that his admirers had chosen this day to bombard him with their superficial gifts. Answering the door, the Frenchman accepted the package with a curt greeting.

About to throw the package on the sofa and possibly promptly forget all about it, a glint of the wrapping paper caught his eye. The package was wrapped in wrapping paper adorned with maple leaves, a single crimson ribbon tied neatly completed the package. Below the ribbon was a stamp...of a casino? Francis blinked. This was certainly interesting. Never had any of the women or man gave him such a _normal_-looking thing to impress him with.

Intrigued now, he unwrapped the package with surprising carefulness. What greeted him was a box of La Maison du Chocolat. Attached to the confectionary was a small card.

" _Joyeux anniversaire François. -Matthew, Michelle, Myriam"_

...

Perhaps he wasn't as alone as he thought.

* * *

><p><em>Hersheys -America<em>

"_Strength is the capacity to break a Hershey bar into four pieces with your bare hands - and then eat just one of the pieces." __Judith Viorst._

_..._

"You have got to be kidding me."

From his side of the table, Arthur shifted slightly in his seat, not batting an eyelid. "No, I'm not."

"But this is ridiculous! W-What kind of sick joke is this?"

"Quiet down Alfred."

"I won't accept this! This is some kind of sick joke! What kind of person does this? No, this is no human, it must be an alien!"

Arthur glanced up from the daily paper to see the American in front of him babbling like a headless chicken. Resisting the urge to pinch his nose and sigh in defeat, he gave Alfred the most unamused look he could muster.

"Alfred, it just a quote."

The male in question just flailed his arms frantically. "But it's challenging my superiority! I cannot not break a Hershey bar and just eat only a quarter of it!"

Watching the American whimper almost pathetically, the Englishman mentally facepalmed. If Alfred was that weakened both mentally and emotionally by a Hershey bar, Arthur wondered what would happen if it was a double chocolate bar of Kit Kat with extra chocolate. Or a chocolate-shaped hamburger.

Russia was going to have a field day if he ever knew about this.

* * *

><p><em>Lindt -Switzerland<em>

Vash was livid.

It had just been a short detour to get some eggs and milk for his work in the kitchen. It wouldn't even have been twenty minutes.

Pots and pans lay scattered on the floor, their concoctions merging together. A layer chocolate powder covered almost everything. He hadn't even put one foot in through the door and the strong scent was already making his nose itch. Thank all they did not touch the eggs.

Suppressing a growl at the mess, the Swiss contented himself with a mental image of destroying the penetrators by firing squad after giving them a nice sucker punch to the face. They should know to never mess with him. Especially near this date. Covering his nose and mouth with one hand from the powder, he rushed to open his fridge, hoping against hope that the penetrator or penetrators hadn't touched it's precious contents.

Luck at last!

Vash breathed a sigh of relief at the untouched balls of chocolate. Pressing his fingertip gently against one, he was pleased to find it hardened perfectly. Good. It wouldn't do for him to lose against Belgium from a straight flush in this year's annual chocolate competition because of a bunch of idiots who were stupid and suicidal enough to ransack his kitchen.

Feeling his initial bloodlust returning, Vash cocked his rifle, the intent to hunt down and get rid of the penetrators rising. Storming over to the sink, he spied a single feathery tuft of yellow on the counter. Gilbert.

Fists shaking, Vash ran a hair through his choppy locks, slightly tousling it. Resisting the urge to yell, he settled for fingering his rifle and muttering darkly instead. Working at an eerily fast speed, he threw the upturned pots and pans into the sink and wiped the floor and walls with damp cloths, careful to get all the powder out. In a matter of minutes, the kitchen was cleared, most of the mess contained in the sink.

Cracking his knuckles, the Swiss set out to find a particular Prussian who had the gall to mess with his stuff.

Wrapping up the Lindor could wait until he did pest control.

* * *

><p><em>Xocolatl -Ancients<em>

Xipil regarded the scene in front of him with slight amusement. From his position on the chief's throne, the strange-looking men looked almost like white chickens as compared to their darker complexion. It was rather funny really, watching the Spaniards gulp down the flavoured liquid favoured among his people with vigour.

He couldn't be more pleased.

"The drink of the Gods," Akna had said as she worked, her hands carving magic out of stone. "It's presence signifies celebration and royalty. Perhaps one day you would come to hold this drink in high regard."

Xipil sighed, his breath leaving a faint bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Swirling his goblet of molten cacao, he scanned the group of foreign lighter-skinned men among his company. These men came from a different land across the sea and brought with them tales of riches and wonder. Of things so bizarre his people could barely comprehend.

They had wanted to take their land. _And he will be damned if they did. _His people were not power-hungry. They-_him_-were a peaceful kind, preferring to share their wealth and compromise then resort to spilling blood.

It had been easier than he had thought. The men across the sea were willing to withhold fighting, preferring to work with his people instead. He gave them seeds and grain and fruit to be sent back to their home across the sea and in return, they gave him knowledge of the outside world. He learnt of huge white vessels bigger than any boat his people and even his Spaniard friends had ever built. Of shiny glinting metal than pierced the way his people's spears do and long flowing garments that women had to wear but restricted most of their movement. A little ridiculous, but these foreign customs all had some degree of impracticality to them. But who was he to judge.

Now they drank to the moon and sun to celebrate their contract of mutual friendship. Still as Xipil watched his people mingle, he wondered if his decision was right.

Every day more the strange men stayed his country, every day more the twinge of uneasiness in his belly grew. Akna had predicted a long time ago. The foreigners would come. Strange people from across the sea who brought along things and concepts like modernization. Xipil didn't admit it, but he was worried. The Spaniards were his friends now, but more would come. And then, when his land was over-run, would his people survive?

The xocolatl tasted sweet on his tongue. Setting his gaze on a particular young foreigner man with eyes the colour of leaves, Xipil let his mind run. His people _would_ survive. As the representative of his people. as the land itself, Xipil would make them rue the day they even think of attacking his people.

Let them come, he thought as he tipped his head to take another swig of xocolatl. If they wished to take their lands, the full wrath of the Aztecs would be unleashed upon them.

* * *

><p><em>Antica Dolceria Bonajuto -Romano<em>

The green feeling swept through him, starting from his chest and moving down to the tips of his toes. Lovino tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight in front of him. Turning away from the entrance of the Sicilian pier, the Italian strode away quickly, his shoulders slumped. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he tried to swallow back frustrated tears.

Always, it was always his damn brother! Stealing the attention from him and leaving him alone in the shadows. The innocent little fool probably didn't know he was doing it too!

He had been planning to share some of Sicily's well-known chocolates to Belgium and the rest when he found his brother entertaining them with a story on how he got head-butted by a dolphin. Looking at their smiling faces, Lovino felt a pang of emptiness. Even though he was there, he felt excluded somehow. And it was painful, so painful for someone like him who had always been overshadowed, overlooked in favour of his brother. It make him feel useless and unwanted.

Bumping into something hard, the Italian lifted his head to snap a few rude words at the cause. However, he paused at the last minute. Rubbing her forehead gently, a slightly tanned little girl looked up to stare at him curiously. Opening her mouth, the girl let out a stream of foreign words, before giving a little nod in what looked like in apology. Oh great, a foreigner.

Mentally cursing, Lovino gave a small grimace, hoping he got through to the girl. It wouldn't do good for him to be rude to a tourist, especially to a _bambina. _Smiling slightly, the girl returned her attention to her surroundings, a flicker of worry in her eyes.

Watching the girl view the streets with slight apprehension, Lovino was just about to ask where her parents were when she made a mad dash across the road, almost colliding with a couple of cars. Eyes widening, he chased after her down another couple of streets before catching her hand, tugging her close to him.

Watching the man grab her shoulders shakily and spew a bunch of rapid Italian, the girl could only brace herself from his scolding. Hearing his voice becoming louder, she winced and averted her gaze. She had just been looking for her parents after losing sight of them when she bumped into the scary native man who in the fifteen minutes she had known him, had shouted at her and also saved her life from potential danger. Still, her spur-of-the-moment action had been worth it. She could recognise the street she was standing on. Now just to find _Papa_ and _Mama_... Pulling herself free, she grabbed Lovino's hand and pulled him along, determination in her eyes.

Lovino felt his hand being tugged. The girl was scanning the street, her eyes alert. Muttering softly, he pressed down his previous bad mood and let himself be tugged to her whims, while also keeping a lookout for any panicking tourists in the area. It did not take long until he found them. A couple, both with anxious faces, frantically gesturing with the people in the vincity. Pointing them out to the girl, her face visibly brightened and she ran over to them, calling out something foreign.

Hugging her parents, the girl turned to stare back at Lovino. Seeming to make up her mind, she bounded back to him and tugged the sleeve of his shirt gently, coaxing him to bend down. Giving him a small peck on the cheek, she smiled at him in gratitude, causing Lovino to gaze at her in shock.

"_G-G__razie._" Her tongue strove to pronounce the foreign word right.

Lovino felt his previous wallowings evaporate completely. Here was someone who had thank him genuinely from her heart, who thought of him as someone needed, if only for a moment. Feeling lighter, the Italian pressed the box of _Antica Dolceria Bonajuto _into her hands. Smirking, he ruffled her hair gently, a rare, gentle look in amber orbs.

"For you. Don't run away and make your parents worry again alright?"

The girl unearthed the box, and upon realising it was chocolate, gave a subtle grin. Nodding once, she went back to her parents and gave once last wave to the man who had helped her before disappearing down the curve of the street.

* * *

><p>AN

My favourites to write were probably Ferrero and ADB. Idk I think i just splattered a whole bunch of angst and seriousness in the middle.

Notes:

I included countries that have ties with China like Vietnam. Singapore is not a part of China and is multiracial, but it has a huge population of Chinese. The government celebrates all holidays of the four biggest racial groups; the Chinese, Malays, Indians and Eurasians, hence Chinese New Year is a big thing over there too. I really _really_ want Singapore to be female. Damn.

Matthew, Michelle and Myriam are Canada, Seychelles and Monaco respectively. All of them were raised by France some point in time. I swear it's a coincidence that all their names start with 'M'.

Myriam-Boutique name in Monaco. Her name is chosen to represent curiosity and the love to explore.

Xipil-Ancient Aztec civilisation. His name means 'noble one of fire'.

Akna-Ancient Mayan civilisation. Her name means "Our mother," a very general title applied, amongst others, to goddesses of fertility and childbirth.

I decide to let Mayan be female while Aztec be male. I dunno, I can see Aztec sort of learning from Mayan in the early stages when he starts to conquer her. Also, I added a little tribute to the Mayans being great predictors. (Yes that's Spain)

I love Lovino more than I do Feliciano. I read fics where Lovino is always overshadowed by his more bubbly twin and it just breaks my heart. Trying to incorporate some of that angst in. I love Lovino like I do Ivan and previous readers would know that Ivan is my bro so Roma is pretty high up there.


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